Look into my heart
by Yuneyn
Summary: They've finally allowed themselves to be together, but Crowley can't seem to shake off some of his insecurities. He's also not particularly crazy about how the other angels treated who they believed was Aziraphale earlier.


_A/N: So, I kind of felt like writing a bit more about these two because they are soft and fill my heart with happy feels :p_

_This is technically set after my other one-shot, but you don't need to read it to understand this one. (Basically they confessed to each other the previous night, after the bus) This one starts right at the end of the last episode, at the Ritz... And it sort of happened because I just couldn't ignore anymore just how pissed Crowley was at the other angels during the body swap. And also because they need to hug more. Anyway, I hope you'll like this little thing!_

_Many thanks again to Voxiferous for reading this before I posted it and supporting me as I was writing it!_

* * *

They were finishing lunch at the Ritz the way they always had: Aziraphale indulging in a large piece of cake while Crowley drank a simple cup of coffee, staring intensely at the angel from behind his dark glasses. It had always fascinated him, the way Aziraphale could enjoy food - such an earthly pleasure - so much, while no other angel would ever allow themselves to be caught doing something like that. It was just one of the many things that had always made Aziraphale feel so _unique_ to Crowley - and right now, after everything that had happened, it felt even more true than ever.

He had a lazy smile on his lips as he watched Aziraphale finish the last bite of his dessert. Apart from the few times they had decided to partake in some extensive alcohol consumption together, this would usually be the moment when each of them would go back to his own place. This time however, while Crowley might not be entirely certain about the alcohol, there was one thing he simply _knew_: they weren't going to go their separate ways, not anymore. Not today, not ever.

It wasn't necessarily because of the moment they had spent together at his place the previous night, after having averted the apocalypse - six thousand years of running and waiting, culminating in gentle touches and quiet, mutual acceptance that their feelings ran much deeper than friendship. It wasn't either because of the way Aziraphale had held his hand while saying he would like to come back to Crowley's place once they had dealt with their respective - _former_ \- sides.

Maybe it was in the way Aziraphale had been looking at him since then, finally unguarded, his gaze so soft and yet so intense. Mostly, it was simply because it was _them_. And just like they hadn't needed words to express their feelings, they also didn't need words to know that they were bound together now. Not only did they truly have no one else - Heaven and Hell had cast them aside, and humans, while sometimes interesting, were ultimately fleeting creatures - but they simply didn't _want_ anyone else.

That being said, it didn't really surprise Crowley that Aziraphale seemed to stumble on his words a bit when he next spoke. This new dimension of their relationship was still new, after all.

"So, um. I know last night I said that I would— Well. Go back with you. But, actually, I was wondering if—"

"You want us to go to the bookshop," Crowley interrupted, and it wasn't a question.

"It's just, you see, I haven't seen it with my own eyes yet. And of course, I trust you when you say it's back to how it used to be but I can't really get the fact that it burned down out of my head," Aziraphale said quietly, casting his glance down.

Crowley waited for the angel to look back up at him, then smiled softly. "I know, angel. Let's go."

They walked in companionable silence, Crowley's hand automatically resting on Aziraphale's back as they stopped in front of the bookshop. He had seen it again while in Aziraphale's body, but it was a lot more different to actually be here _with_ him. Despite knowing that everything was fine now, that everything was back to the way it had been before - better, even, than before - he still needed that physical reassurance that Aziraphale was standing here next to him, unharmed.

"It looks exactly the same from here," the angel said quietly, staring at the building.

"It is the same. Well, aside from the new books."

"New books?" Aziraphale turned to him in surprise.

Crowley simply shrugged. "Maybe Adam meant it as a thank you gift or something. They look old, just the way you like them. Children's books, though."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the _'old'_ comment but didn't comment on it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly. "How would you know they were new? You never paid any interest to books, as far as I'm aware."

A small smirk appeared on the demon's lips. "You're right, angel. I don't care about _books_," he said, the subtext peeking through his words. _I care about you._

"Oh," the angel replied softly, looking down for a second before sending Crowley one of those beaming smiles that made him feel hopelessly fond. "Well then. Let's get in, shall we?"

Crowley's hand didn't leave Aziraphale's back until they were inside the bookshop. There, he let the angel walk around his place and went directly for the worn couch in the corner next to Aziraphale's desk. He plopped onto it unceremoniously, exhaling slowly and allowing himself to relax. There was just something familiar and comforting in being here, watching Aziraphale stroll between his mountains of books. The angel walked towards him eventually, eyeing the red books on the top of his desk.

"You were right, these books appear the be the only thing that changed," Aziraphale said, looking more closely at the books, opening the first one up carefully. "First edition too. That boy has some good taste."

"Yeah, I'm not sure the first edition thing reflects his taste much - but speaking of taste, shouldn't we make sure your wine collection has been properly restored?"

Aziraphale turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you did have ulterior motives when you accompanied me here."

Crowley only sent him an indulgent smile in return. "You know me, angel." The angel in question looked like he was torn between rolling his eyes or smiling in response, and Crowley absolutely loved that expression on him. "Honestly, tell me you were not thinking the same thing," he added with a small shrug.

* * *

It turned into an extensive wine-tasting session - they had agreed that it was important to be thorough if they were to check how accurately Adam had 'fixed' reality. But in the end, they found out that the boy had done some excellent work. It was dark out and Crowley wasn't really sure how long it had been since the sun had set - not that it really mattered. He was drunk, clearly, and so was Aziraphale, but not _that_ drunk either. They had sobered up once along the way, when they had realized that they weren't really _tasting_ the wine anymore.

"Archangels," Crowley spat out, interrupting what must have been Aziraphale's fourth or fifth retelling of how he had asked Michael to miracle him a towel. "Tsk. With all their holier-than-thou attitude. Thinking they're so much better than everyone else." He made a wide gesture with his glass. "You know who I hate the most? Gabriel. That pompous, arrogant, obnoxious, self-righteous Archangel fucking Gabriel. Took a lot from me not to punch him in his stupid face."

"You're drunk," Aziraphale said flatly from where he was sitting at his desk, but he didn't object.

Crowley shrugged. "Barely. If you don't believe me, I could always sober up and I _swear_ I would say the exact same thing." He laid back against the couch cushions and his expression darkened. "You weren't there. What he said— I just—" He groaned, rubbing his eyes - his glasses having come off at some point while they were drinking. "I just couldn't stand the way that guy was talking to you," he finally said, deflated.

Aziraphale sighed. "I suppose I can imagine. The last few encounters I've had with my side—" Crowley gave him a look then. " —_former_ side, sorry. Well, they weren't as pleasant as one might have liked. But to be fair, the forces of Hell weren't exactly welcoming either."

Crowley leaned forward. "Yeah, but see, that's to be expected. Hell isn't supposed to be _welcoming_. Demons aren't exactly _nice_, or very good friend material."

"Well. You are," Aziraphale said quietly, and Crowley's brain stopped for a moment.

"...Shut up," he eventually replied, leaning back again and looking away.

"If my memory is correct, _you_ were the one to call me your best friend. And honestly, after last night, I expected my feelings on this matter to be rather clear." Aziraphale looked away and cleared his throat. "Feelings — Well. For you, that is."

Crowley could feel his face grow a lot warmer and he _really_ hoped that it was from the alcohol because the other explanation was very much _not okay._ He suddenly wondered why Aziraphale wasn't sitting next to him like he had the previous night, because even though the angel's company was ultimately all he really wanted, he suddenly felt the urge to hold him again - to share everything he couldn't put into words within a simple embrace.

Instead, he only muttered, "Well, Hell doesn't want me anymore so I'm probably not a good standard for judging demons."

"Crowley — "

"Anyway, my point was," Crowley interrupted, waving his glass around. "All these guys are assholes and you don't deserve to be talked to like that."

Aziraphale pursed his lips for a second. "Obviously, they were angry. You didn't see them on their best day."

Crowley gaped at him, dumbfounded. "Why are you defending them? You even said you'd had _'unpleasant encounters'_ \- and after everything, why?"

"...Force of habit, I suppose," the angel replied with a shaky, embarrassed smile.

The demon stared at him intensely for a while, until Aziraphale grew visibly restless and stood up. "Um, what would you say to another drink? I still have another crate saved up from—" He paused as he noticed the bottles on the table filling back up, but before he could say anything, Crowley was already up and embracing him tightly.

There was a beat of silence, during which Crowley could feel Aziraphale stiffen briefly in his arms before he relaxed and returned the embrace. Glancing behind the angel, Crowley saw the bottles were now all full again. He smiled softly, then closed his eyes and buried his face in Aziraphale's neck. "Heaven doesn't deserve you, angel. You're so much better than the lot of them."

"You know that's not—"

Crowley backed away a little, just enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes. "I mean it. And you can't blame the alcohol this time." He frowned a little, glancing down. "I suppose... I also don't des—"

Aziraphale's lips were on his before he could finish, and the demon was being given the softest, most loving kiss he had ever received. Not that he had received that many, mind you, but it was so much more tender than the few they had exchanged the previous night. At that time, it had been about confessing, accepting, _embracing_ their feelings for each other - tentatively crossing the line they had been toeing for millennia. It had felt warm, comforting, and strangely natural. But this time, _this time_, Aziraphale was radiating so much sheer, unconditional _love_ that it was almost overwhelming, and Crowley idly wondered if being subjected to something so pure couldn't possibly damage him. And while he _knew_ Aziraphale would never do anything to hurt him, he certainly did feel himself growing weaker and on the verge of losing his hold over his corporeal form.

When Crowley felt as if he couldn't hold himself together for one more second, the angel's lips left his and still he couldn't repress a soft, discontented noise. Aziraphale was smiling up at him, but there was a patronizing edge to it. "I'm sorry my dear, but there are some things I just cannot allow you to say."

Crowley blinked a few times, trying to gather himself. He did his best to affect a nonchalant attitude, but his voice was still very much stuck in his throat when he managed to speak. "You really don't need to apologize for kissing me, angel," he croaked, pretending he wasn't failing miserably at the whole _'nonchalant'_ thing.

Aziraphale gave him a look that showed he had no patience for this and Crowley sighed. "Come on, you know there's some truth to what I was saying." He was still a demon after all, and as Aziraphale had pointed out regularly over the years they _were_ supposed to be enemies. That they had become friends - _more than friends_ \- was nothing short of a miracle… Which he could have joked about, but Crowley was not in the mood for supernatural puns, especially when it was rather clear who between the two of them had gotten the short end of the straw.

The angel huffed softly. "You really don't get it, do you?" Crowley opened his mouth to reply but Aziraphale spoke again before he could say anything. "All those years, you've always been the one person I could count on. It was like you said early on… Heaven, Hell, they only cared about results, and their _Great Plan_. And in the midst of all that, you and I… Well." He reached out gently, resting a warm hand over Crowley's cheek as he looked straight into the demon's wide, unblinking eyes. "You talk about who should _deserve_ me, still you fail to see that you're the only one who has always been here. I have never asked you to, I even sent you away many times - yet you _always_ came back for me. Six thousand years, and it's only ever been you."

Crowley swallowed heavily. Aziraphale's words, his gentle touch, his intense gaze - it somehow affected him more than the kiss and his heartbeat was now entirely out of his control. Still, he managed a weak, "But I'm—," before Aziraphale interrupted him again.

"What, a demon? You said it earlier, you were cast aside - we both were, actually. I'm sorry my dear, but I'm afraid we were both equally bad at being an angel or a demon. I believe you might have been right all along: we're on our own side."

"But you always said—"

Aziraphale gave him a small, sad smile. "I know. I'm sorry. Those barriers I've always put between us… It wasn't against you; it wasn't because you're a demon - well, I suppose it was in a way, but only because I was scared of what Hell would do to you if they found out." He closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. "I guess I know now."

Crowley's hands tightened on Aziraphale's shoulders. "We both do. And don't think I was never worried about you, angel." Because he had been. True, back then he might not have expected Aziraphale's punishment for _fraternizing_ to be as drastic as the one he would have faced in Hell, but now… After what he had seen earlier that day, he wasn't so sure anymore.

"I know you were. Do you think I've forgotten all those times you helped me?" Aziraphale asked with a soft smile.

Crowley huffed a small laugh, his heart finally beginning to settle down. "You always had a knack for getting into trouble."

"So, will you stop with this nonsense about me not deserving you? Or should I spend the next few hours listing all the reasons why you are wrong in your assumption?"

Crowley made a face as though he was seriously considering it. Not that he would ever be a hundred percent convinced, to be honest, but he simply couldn't argue with the way the angel was looking at him right now. "Eh, I actually wouldn't mind that," he eventually replied with a small smirk.

Aziraphale gave him a small eye roll. "And frankly, my dear, I resent the idea that you and I should _deserve_ each other in any way. I much rather prefer to think that we _chose_ each other."

"Well, then again, we were the only ones on Earth. Not many options to choose from - unless you include humans, but—" Crowley started, shrugging.

"Oh will you just shut up," Aziraphale snapped, and Crowley couldn't help but laugh again before pulling the angel into another kiss.

They lingered into the touch, smiling against each other's lips. The moment was pure, unadulterated _joy_, and Crowley allowed himself to embrace it - to accept, if even for a moment, that everything Aziraphale had said was true, that he didn't need to worry about who he was because they deserved - had _chosen_ each other.

As they pulled apart, Aziraphale shook his head in fond exasperation. "You really are quite a handful, you know that?"

"And you're stuck with me now. Lucky you," Crowley replied without missing a beat - only slightly panicking over the fact that they technically _hadn't_ discussed the whole _'staying together'_ business.

Then again, he had _known_ they would since earlier at the Ritz. Since the previous night, really. So, it only made sense that Aziraphale knew this as well.

And sure enough, the angel was beaming up at him, only the smallest hint of a smirk adorning his lips as he spoke. "Lucky me indeed."

* * *

_A/N: __Thanks for reading! :)_

_I kind of really want to keep writing for them, but I struggle a lot with finding ideas... Because canon already makes me pretty happy, and I'm usually most inspired when canon is mean to the characters I love (because then I get to fix it^^). I was thinking of maybe making a collection of short one-shots, little domestic scenes of their lives together... I'm not sure. If anyone is interested - or has prompts for me - please let me know, that would be a huge help!_

_In any case, I hope you enjoyed this little story! Don't hesitate to come talk to me on Tumblr (yuneyn) or on Twitter (Yuneyn_), I'm not super active but I always love chatting about fandoms I love over DMs!_


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